


Secret of Its Skeleton

by Brigdh



Category: Swordspoint - Kushner
Genre: BDSM, Established Relationship, M/M, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-28
Updated: 2009-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-05 09:15:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brigdh/pseuds/Brigdh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What do you do when you're stuck inside from the snow? Or, Alec sulks and winter sucks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret of Its Skeleton

**Author's Note:**

> No spoilers. Title taken from T. S. Eliot's Rhapsody on a Windy Night, thanks to Rana Eros. Even though she intended to give it as a prompt to someone else, it fit so well that I stole it. Warning: mild BDSM overtones to the sexual activity herein.  
> Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to Ellen Kushner.

_As if the world gave up   
The secret of its skeleton,   
Stiff and white._

It was snowing, a nearly imperceptible fall of sparkling pin-points that nonetheless came steadily and thickly, filling the air like a fog; by the time he reached home, his shoulders were buried under a cold layer that seemed too heavy to have come from the tiny individual flakes. But Alec had a fire roaring, and it had made their rooms noticeably warmer and drier than the hallway; the heat scorched across Richard's wind-burned cheeks as he came inside, blowing away the chill on his skin and slowly sinking through him. He paused in the doorway to knock the snow from his cloak and boots. Alec had moved in a few weeks ago, but it hadn't made him more predictable, and Richard was glad to find him here. He was finding that he preferred Alec's company; strange and vicious as the scholar sometimes was, he was rarely boring.

Alec watched him shake off the snow, currently appearing mildly amused. He was, for once, not sitting by the fire but in the window, wrapped in blankets to make up for the distance from its warmth. One of his books waited by his feet, but Richard wasn't sure how he intended to read it, since he was using both hands to hold the blankets in place. He must have gathered every one they owned; the multiple layers of them obscured the long lines of his body, melding his limbs and trunk to a single, rounded shape.

"Hello," Richard said. "It's snowing again. I think it might be a real storm this time; the wind's picking up, too. I'll get an offer soon if this snow sticks. People like the way a duel looks in the snow. It's messy, really, and not romantic, but at least it's a challenge."

Alec was slouched in the corner of the seat, his head dropped back against the wall. He rolled it to the side, his chin high and eyes half-lidded to stare down his nose out of the window. "I know it's snowing. It's why I had the sense not to go out tonight."

"You didn't miss much. I suppose you weren't the only one the weather kept inside."

Alec frowned, probably not pleased to hear that other people had shared his idea. "Did you kill anyone, at least?"

"No." The snow had melted quickly; Richard spread his cloak and jacket on the table, where they'd dry in the warmth of the fire, and moved to Alec's side. He still stared out of the window. Richard didn't know what he was looking at; from his angle, the glass was a mirror gilded with the shifting red and orange light from the fireplace, marred only by the shadows he and Alec cast. But maybe Alec could see something more. "You know I don't have a job planned right now."

"I do know. But you might have killed someone for the pleasure of it."

Richard smiled. "People don't bother me." Alec's reflection lifted its eyes, considering Richard through the mirror. He seemed oddly quiet, but he often was, lately. Alec's reserve flickered in and out with his moods; inexplicable things could upset him, and Richard could only stop him from his worst excesses of self-destruction, not understand their causes. The flakes of snow that had caught in his hair turned to water and bled down in brief, cold drops, like little shocks. He ran a hand roughly through his hair to shake them away, but they continued, sporadic and sudden.

Alec kept his silence, weighing possible answers, before dismissing the entire line of conversation with an irritated shrug. "Anyway, I can't imagine anything pleasurable happening in this sort of weather."

"It's not that bad. Are you still cold?"

Alec pursed his lips, turning to face him. "Of course I'm cold, Richard. The sun shines for a mere handful of hours, if that. If it's not snowing or clouded over or some other trick to steal what little light we might have gotten. And when it's not snowing, the wind is blowing, so that the cold comes in through every crack in the walls. Everywhere I go is cold; it follows me." His voice grew louder and more agitated than the sneering pace of his words; he tore a hand out from the welter of blankets and wrapped it around Richard's wrist. "Do you feel that? My fingers haven't been warm in months. I can't escape it, but _you're_ warm enough. I'm the one who-" His next word broke to pieces in his throat and he stopped, sealing his mouth shut in a rage.

His skin did feel chilled. Richard carefully removed himself from Alec's hold, reversing the grip until Alec's fingers were between his hands and he could chafe some heat into them. Alec's arm was stiff with tension, running up to where the blankets had slipped away to reveal his rigid shoulders, and he watched Richard distrustfully; Richard scraped his thumb across Alec's middle knuckles and threaded his fingers between Alec's, stroking down to reach the soft webs between their bases. Alec shivered. His fingers curled against Richard's palm, their tips digging sharply into the side of Richard's thumb, and Richard stilled, keeping his hands loose enough for Alec to free himself. After a moment, Alec offered him his other hand instead.

Richard took it, raising their hands together to his mouth, breathing warm air over their fingers, though Alec's no longer felt cold. Alec had narrow hands, and long fingers; elegant hands, even with the short, dirty nails and skin dried by winter. Richard started to breathe over them again, but instead kissed the tendons in the back of the hand, and then the knuckles, the fingers. Alec looked up at him. Richard met his eyes as he turned Alec's left hand over and kissed the thin skin over the bones of his wrist.

Alec breathed in, his chest jumping, and jerked his hands away. He steadied them against his blankets, face blank and tilted down to watch his fingers stroke over the cloth. In his shadow on the window, Richard glimpsed the snow outside; still falling, it had changed to white, fat flakes that made it hard to see more than a few feet past the glass.

"I'm going to bed," Alec muttered, and stood, spilling the blankets around him in layers like dark blue and brown and green pieces of shell. He kicked his way out of the tangle without waiting to see if Richard followed. Richard pulled a few off the floor first for the bed; the fire was still high and the room was warm, but Alec had been right about cold coming in through the walls, and they would want the blankets later if the storm continued.

Alec curled on the far edge of his side of the bed, so that when Richard undressed and climbed between the sheets, Alec's back was turned to him, the sharp angles of Alec's shoulderblades as he huddled into himself, and his hair that seemed dark and shadowed against the white pillow. Richard lay on his back in the cool bed; Alec hadn't bothered to light the fireplace in the bedroom, and the linen was chilled, even under the warmer blankets. His last memory before sleep was the sound of the wind outside their rooms, roaring around the edges of the building with devastating force.

But sometime in the night they moved closer; it had either happened slowly or when Richard was deeply asleep, because he hadn't felt it happen. He did feel it when Alec got up, slipping out from under Richard's arm; the cool air that replaced Alec's body heat woke him. He stayed still, blinking in the faint light of very early morning, and listened to Alec's footsteps move into the other room and stop. For a while there was no other sound, and he closed his eyes again, but then the silence struck him as strange, too much, and he lifted himself on an elbow to look through the doorway. Alec was standing in front of the window, looking out; he was shivering, but Richard thought it was only from the cold; the fire had burned down to dark ash while they slept. The normal noises of the city that should be present, even at this hour, seemed missing or muted.

Alec glanced to the side, as though he felt Richard's gaze on him. Their eyes met briefly, Alec's wide and staring, before he turned silently back to the window.

Richard rolled out of bed; the wood floor under his bare feet seemed hard and cold as metal, and he huffed out a surprised breath as he walked to Alec. The view outside the window seemed wrong, until he recognized what he was looking at, everything transformed by the storm. It had left over a foot of snow on the ground, maybe as much as two, and that changed the shapes of everything, turning sharp-peaked roofs to long, low slumps, and the cobbled courtyard to a smooth, flat blanket. Icicles hung sharp and clear from the edges of windowsills and the carvings over doorfronts, but there wasn't enough light for them to sparkle, so they seemed only like dull, hollow blades. It wasn't as early as Richard had thought; the clouds hung low and thick over the city, dimming the light. He glanced automatically to the east, but there was no indication of the sun to estimate the time. What light there was seemed to come equally from every direction, from the whole sky that was hidden behind the clouds marked with swirls and streaks of grey, like the patterns left by ink spilled in water, but frozen to stillness. A little snow still marred the grey with their white lines, but it was hard to tell if it was falling from the sky or blown up off the roofs and streets.

Alec looked fascinated. "I thought you hated snow," Richard said.

"I do," Alec answered quickly, and the earnestness in his face faded as he remembered a little of his normal ironic manner. He leaned in to the window and pressed his hand against it, fingers spread wide; his breath clouded the glass in a faint white oval. He noticed, and sighed heavily, deliberately, then traced something into the mist that lingered and hid part of the city outside. Richard recognized letters, which meant nothing to him; he looked instead at Alec, who smirked as he watched the condensation slowly fade, taking whatever the word had been with it. "Look- there's no footprints. No people. There could be no one out there, Richard, the city could be empty except for us. All alone." Alec pretended to frown, but it came out sharply sarcastic, mocking both his insincerity and his absorption. "It could have been destroyed while we were asleep; they could all be dead, frozen and blue and stiff, in their empty houses like the last candy in a box, waiting for someone to come and shake them loose. Or we might be dead, and not know it. Everything has failed utterly, finally."

Richard picked up one of the blankets from the scatter forgotten by their feet and draped it over Alec's shoulders. Alec didn't seem to notice, only lifting a hand automatically to hold it in place. "They'll be back, after a while. Snow doesn't last long in Riverside. At least, not like this; it will be slush and ice by tomorrow."

"Oh. How disappointing." Alec dropped the blanket as easily as he had accepted it, and turned to Richard, putting his back to the window. He was frowning again, genuinely displeased this time, and reached out to touch Richard's arm; his fingers lingered, consideringly, and then he bent his head to kiss Richard. He tasted sour, like sleep and cheap wine; he must have been very drunk the night before, more so than Richard had realized. Richard lifted his hands to Alec's shoulders and arms, feeling the muscles shift beneath the skin as Alec mirrored the movement. His skin was still bed-warm, heated by sleep and blankets, until he put his hands on Richard's chest and his palms were cold and wet where he'd held them to the window. Richard curved his hands around to Alec's back and pulled him in, and Alec shifted to adjust, his hip brushing just above Richard's, sliding his hands up to Richard's neck, his fingers touching and twisting in the lowermost strands of Richard's hair. Alec sighed, tilting his head and licking at the corner of Richard's mouth with the tip of his tongue. "We're still alive, then," he said. His lips moved over Richard's cheek, light. "It doesn't matter. If only you would, Richard, yes, again-"

As the kisses deepened, standing became awkward, and they moved back blindly, seeking more support. Alec fell onto the window seat, pulling Richard down with him, and abruptly broke the kiss with a curse, jerking up like flexed bow. "The window- it's too cold to touch; the glass is like ice. I'd forgotten about it." His chest and stomach pressed against Richard's as he held himself away from the window, the muscles low in his back tense under Richard's hands.

"Should we-" Richard moved back, but Alec's fingers tightened on his shoulders, holding him still.

"No, never mind. It's fine." Alec kissed his mouth again, and neck, and shoulder. He eased himself back against the window in tiny steps, shuddering as he came more fully against it. Richard slid his hands up to make a barrier, feeling Alec's soft flesh against his palms and the slick, frozen glass against the back of his hands.

"Alec," Richard said. "Let's just go to bed."

Alec squirmed to dislodge Richard's hands. "No," he snapped. "I know what I'm doing; I want this." He caught Richard by the wrists and brought Richard's hands, unresisting, to his shoulders, arching his back against the window so that his neck seemed impossibly long; Richard leaned forward to taste it, and Alec's skin was hot and dry over the quick beat of his pulse. Some of Alec's hair clung to the window in thin tendrils, tugged out to straight lines when he turned his head to the side. "I'm sick of kindness. I want something I can't spoil," he said, in a low, bitter voice. Richard cautiously closed his hands over Alec's shoulders, hesitating before forcing him back against the window. Alec's fingers tightened around Richard's wrists and then loosened, slipping away; his throat slid in heavy swallows against Richard's lips. "Ah," he said. "Yes. Like that."

Richard kissed Alec's neck, pressed his tongue flat over the hard structure of his adam's apple to taste the vibrations when Alec spoke, incoherent demands and sighs that flowed relentlessly out over Richard's head. And lower: the wedge of muscle where Alec's shoulder flowed up to meet his neck seemed inviting, and Richard shifted to it, scraped his teeth over the skin. Alec shook and his voice quavered; he used his legs to hook Richard's hips and pull him closer, rolling up to rub against him. He pressed against Richard's hold, testing it, and sighed in pleasure when he couldn't break it, dropping his chin to find Richard's mouth for another kiss.

Alec was hard against the inside of Richard's hip, thrusting up in a jerky, unstable rhythm. Richard found control difficult, impossible to think of anything except how Alec trembled and moved in surges, his mouth on Richard's stealing Richard's breath. Richard pressed into angle at the top of Alec's thigh, seeking some sort of focus. He could feel the cold of the window, though he wasn't touching it himself; the snowy winter air penetrated their rooms, extending out from the window until Richard could feel both himself and Alec enclosed in the chill, though it didn't help to slow things. Alec's sweat left streaks on the glass as he moved, clear spots outlined by fog left by his body heat.

Richard moved his hands down Alec's long arms, stroking over the lean place below his bicep and above the width of his elbow, and then further down, until he had Alec's wrists in his grip, the bones just beneath the skin shifting against his palm as Alec adjusted. Richard freed one hand, keeping both the narrow wrists pinned behind the small of Alec's back, and lifted Alec's hip, pulling him down and into a different position. Alec's breath caught, and then he was panting again, making short, sharp sounds. His eyes were open, the pupils dilated, and he stared hard at Richard's face. Richard paused, his hand resting on the flat flank on the outside of the joint where Alec's hip met his thigh. "Are you all right? Did I do something wrong?"

Alec shook his head, licking his lips as he struggled to collect himself. "Don't worry, Richard. I said I wanted it; I meant it. I can stand it." He almost managed to sound typically disdainful; Richard stroked his hand up Alec's leg and back down the inside of his thigh, where the skin was softest and most delicate. Alec tensed and relaxed, straining up, his voice losing its distance again. "God, Richard. Don't stop. You mustn't stop."

Richard rubbed Alec's thigh until he moaned, and moved his hand between his legs, and kissed him; Alec's mouth seemed very slippery and eager, pressing up to suck on Richard's lower lip, catching it in his teeth when Richard pulled back. Richard lifted his hand and put his fingers in his mouth, licking them well, intending only to get them thoroughly wet. Alec, watching, threw his head back against the window, biting his lips to quiet himself.

Richard leaned into him; Alec's stomach jumped up and down as he breathed, pulsing against Richard's prick, and Alec's legs closed around Richard, locking ankles behind his back. Richard pushed one finger into Alec, careful not to hurt him. He hadn't needed to worry. Alec's whole body shivered, everywhere he was touching Richard, and he keened low in his throat. Richard added another finger, and Alec writhed.

He had to be most cautious now, just when it was hardest to remember to do so. Alec pressed himself onto Richard's fingers and contorted his back into extreme bends, his hip sliding against Richard's prick as he shuddered. Richard put his mouth to Alec's chest, where sweat beaded despite the cold. Alec was least composed at these moments, farthest from his casual scorn, but he knew it as well as Richard did, and it was easy to startle him, to scare him into thinking he'd give away whatever the secret was he was so desperate to keep. Richard didn't want to know it; he only wanted to break Alec's cool exterior for a little bit, to drive the clever, haughty scholar to buck and cry out. But even that wasn't simple. Alec was terrified, it seemed, of revealing that he was capable of being affected, of giving even that much power to anyone else. Richard only intended to please Alec, not to hurt him, but he didn't know how to tell him.

Alec clenched around Richard's fingers and came with a cry. Richard freed his hands and he curled forward, burying his face against Richard while he came back to himself, trembling in small spats. Richard pressed into him, his warmth and the friction of his body, as he took himself in hand, nearly to the end but not yet quite there. Alec's hair tickled his chin and mouth, and Richard could smell it, the harsh soap and dusty velvet of the ribbon he had it in, the faint icy scent from the window that clung to it, and underneath the musk of human and male and sex that was Alec. Richard kissed the soft strands, and tried to think of something to say. "Alec," he managed, and closed his eyes, the fullness of the name seeming too much. "Like nothing else."

Alec tightened his arms around Richard's shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscles. He lifted his mouth along Richard's neck to his jaw, his ear, and said, "Richard, hush." Richard gasped, and then didn't hear anything, and then knew that it was over.

Afterward, it was easy to convince Alec to move away from the window; he had reverted to his normal attitude to cold. Richard felt too lazy to rekindle the fire, and once under the blankets, Alec refused to leave them, but it didn't matter; the bed warmed quickly enough.


End file.
